


Slowly getting better

by britishngay



Series: Come over [12]
Category: Heathers (1988), Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: Angst, F/F, SO, Smut, a lil bit of - Freeform, and a whole load of inner monologue, okay, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:07:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/britishngay/pseuds/britishngay
Summary: It starts with Veronica ignoring you like the plague.She walks straight past you and you pretend that it doesn’t faze you when in reality your heart just splinters, she hangs out with the loser squad instead and your heart cracks.(Or Heather starts to regret a little too late)
Relationships: Heather Chandler/Veronica Sawyer
Series: Come over [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1454131
Comments: 15
Kudos: 171





	1. Chapter 1

It starts with Veronica ignoring you like the plague.

Which hurt a lot more than you thought it would. This whole fucking thing hurts more than you thought it would. You miscalculated your gains and losses, you can’t believe that you ever thought that losing her would be better than people finding out or your thoughts going crazy. You need something different, you need to remember how you used to be. Bring back the old Heather Chandler. You want to hurt somebody, the person you never wanted to hurt in is pain and you just want to make someone cry in that cathartic way that it used to.

She walks straight past you and you pretend that it doesn’t faze you when in reality your heart just splinters, she hangs out with the loser squad instead and your heart cracks. You fuel all of the pain into making you into the in the foulest mood, it’s the beginning of the day, everyone is getting their shit from their lockers, some of them are looking at you, a couple of freshmen run from your expression. Good, people will know to avoid you today, the word has probably already spread around, ignore the red one, she’ll bite your head off. Duke starts to ask why Veronica walks right past you and Mac quickly distracts her with asking some inane question, Duke looks at you up and down before answering.

You need to lash out, you need to hurt someone. You need to stop feeling this. Who can you insult without there being too many consequences? A freshman would just cry, most sophomores would go to Flemming or any other teacher that could hear them whine. You scan over the crowds, some people make eye contact and shrink. Then your eyes land on her, Courtney, an easy target, you walk over to her and she turns when she hears your shoes. God you hate her smug face and her boyfriend and her little friend group who act like they’re better than you. Even though you act that way to everyone else, a part of you mutters, but you’re exempt from that hate because you’re not Country Club fucking Courtney.

“Courtney, I didn’t know that your parents are siblings – that explains so much.” Before you turn around, you see her face drop and it feels _good._ You feel like you have power again, you feel like the old you, you feel slightly rejuvenated, like you can take on the day better. You can hear Duke hold back laughter behind you whilst you walk off. There are no repercussions from how you act, there never are, the teachers are too scared of you and Courtney would never fight back, she knows that you would win. You’re tempted to call out to Dunnstock and call her all of the nasty names that you’ve stopped because you realised how awful you were being to her; plus Veronica sleeping with you was also a good incentive to stop you being a complete dick. Although, you’re awfully good at being a dick and it’s a good-ass distraction from the guilt and the hurt that you’ve caused yourself. In the end you walk past the loser squad without saying anything because you really were awful to Martha, and she’s so kind, she’s been so good to Veronica and everything and was so nice to you when you gave her an odd haphazard apology.

You’re good, well no you’re not, you’re okay.

Nope, you’re fine, well, you survive the History without too many issues because you only share the class with Duke, Ms Moore was an asshole about some homework that you didn’t do but Duke was able to convince her that it’s due tomorrow. It’s something that you admire about Duke, she has one hell of a silver tongue, not that it works on you, but it works on everyone else. The next lesson passes without anything happening and you can convince you’re self that you are very _okay_ until you make eye contact with Veronica at lunch her eyes are so full of anger and betrayal and you can barely look at them for too long. It feels like someone punches you in gut, that someone should be you because you caused this. You thought you could be good at repressing you’re feelings, it’s something you used to pride yourself on. Now though, everything hurts and part of you thinks you deserve it because you’ve caused it. You can hear Duke bitching about the Betty Finn and that stupid beer pong game at Veronica’s, you hate that game, you hate it all. Mac keeps looking at you with that puppy dog look on her face, as if you’re going to break. It’s all your fault, this whole situation is because of you and you _hate_ it.

You need to hurt someone again. Maybe it’ll distract you from what you’ve done to Veronica.

You already wasted some distraction on Courtney. So you can’t go for her again. You scan the cafeteria, looking for prey, looking for someone to take away what you feel.

But the bell rings and you snap out of your reverie. Duke says something to Mac and walks off to whatever class she has while you sit there. Someone pokes you.

“What?” You snap.

“We have English Heather.” Mac says, slightly hurt at your tone.

“Of course, sorry.” She looks a bit taken aback at your apology but you can’t stomach any bitchiness toward her, you do give her a glare though so she knows not to look too far into it.

Your grades can’t handle skipping, and you’ve realised slightly too late in the year that your gpa is really important to get into the Colleges you want to go to. At the same time, the desire to skip and not be with Veronica, hot debate Veronica who almost always rolls her sleeves up and will say something so intelligent that you never would have thought of and your heart swells with happiness whenever she does and Flemming has to stutter out a response because Veronica is just _that_ goddamn clever. You’re reading Little Woman for the millionth time, the only thing that made it enjoyable was Veronica’s small comments and her defence of Amy – who she always compared to you at 3am while she plays with your hair, and then you’d compare her to Jo and she scrunches her nose and says that they would be sisters and that’s gross. Then she’d pretend to leave and you’d drag her back to bed. Then you’d take it back and call her Laurie and she’d roll her eyes but she’d blush and look so cute.

You don’t speak as you trudge to English, neither does Mac, she reads your mood and doesn’t pester even though you know that she’s bursting to meddle. Veronica’s moved to her old seat on the other side of the room and makes a point not to make eye contact as you sit down. You zone out as soon as Flemming starts talking, not in the mood to hear her drone on and on about the gay sub-text and how important the relationship is between the sisters and Jo’s unreliableness as a narrator – even though every narrator has agendas so whatever. That’s another thing that Veronica with ramble on about while you were trying to sleep, you’d always complain that she was boring you to death but in reality you loved hearing her talk about things she’s passionate about.

You lean your head on your arms and feel yourself drift off to the weirdly comforting sound of your English class.

\--

_“C’mon, which would you rather?”_

_“If you’re not careful I’ll kick you out.”_

_She gasps melodramatically, her thighs on either side of your hips, her skin soft against yours, you can feel her pressed against you, the stretch marks on her thighs glimmer with a small amount of sweat. This is the five minute rest before you go again. You’re still a bit jelly-like and having her so close is almost stifling and too hot but you love the feeling too much to push her off._

_“You would never, you need a big spoon too much.”_

_Her eyes darken, even more than they already are, when you find the strength to flip her over, so you end up in between her legs. She laughs slightly as you rest your head on her shoulder._

_“Seriously though,”_

_“This is stupid Veronica.” Your voice is slightly muffled by her neck._

_“No it’s not, it’s fun.”_

_“The two are not mutually exclusive, Ronnie.”_

_She smiles at the nickname, you can feel her cheeks press against your hairline. Her arms automatically wrap around your waist._ _The room is warm, but not unbearably so, it’s your Mother’s yearly freak-out about how cold it is so she just amps up the heating, even though it’s not nearly as cold as it could be. She seems to have dropped the ridiculous game of ‘Would You Rather’, which you are grateful for._

_“I like it when you call me that.” She murmurs, it’s weird. She’s always willing to laugh or speak loudly but in moments like these – the ones that feel more intimate than when you’re fucking, she always speaks quietly. It’s like she’s afraid of you. Which you entirely understand, speaking too loud would interrupt the moment, maybe make you face what you’re doing here, you might remember your place in the food chain and how easily you could banish her to the bottom of it. You stay like that for a while, in silence, breathing each other in. Then you start leaving small pecks at the bottom of her neck, you feel her smile again. You gradually get rougher, using your tongue and teeth and she starts making those little noises from the back of her throat that make your stomach coil. You’re still wet from before, so it’s no surprise that you get even wetter. Her hands squeeze your ass harshly and you moan against the column of her throat. You make your way up and kiss her soundly. For a moment you stay there, kissing, in that slow, steady way that makes your toes curl. Everything she does has the purpose of turning you on, and you don’t even hate how effective she’s doing it._

_She rolls you back until you’re resting on the mattress instead of her. You roll your eyes, always needing to be on top, not that you’re complaining, you tend to get treated_ very _well in this position. She hikes your legs up around her waist and smiles when she can feel the wetness against her stomach. She moves away and raises her eyebrows at you, of course she’s getting cocky at making you wet, she’s almost as bad as the boys. You move your hand down her, scratching her with your nails along the way – the way her eyes roll back shouldn’t be so deliciously hot – and move one finger through her folds then bring it back up. Two can play at that game._

_“You were saying?” You say. You run your thumb across her lips and slowly push the finger inside, you can feel her tongue swirl across it, she makes a whimpering noise and a smirk makes it’s way onto your face. She pushes your hand out of her mouth and kisses you, hard, so very hard and you’re slightly too hot again but it’s so, so worth it._

_“What would you rather?” You’re suddenly colder than before as she moves away to ask, you’re starting to feel that famous Heather Chandler anger rising._

_“Are you not going to drop this?” You say through gritted teeth. She doesn’t look afraid, she should be, she’s smiling down at you._

_“C’mon, it’s just a little bit of fun.”_

_You pull her down to kiss again, this time hurts more, with her biting and sucking your lips and your nails racking down her back again. She’s using your anger for the fun of it. One of her hands snakes it’s way down your front and your hips buck embarrassingly high, knocking her hips slightly. She does one of those arrogant smirks which you find annoyingly attractive. She slowly, so goddamn slowly, pushes one finger into you and you can’t help the noise that falls from your lips, it’s crazy how quickly she can turn you into this horny, sweaty mess. She curls the singer finger before adding a second, again, so agonizingly slowly. She’s somehow able to keep at the same stable pace as your hips start to move against her hand._

_“Keep still babygirl, maybe I’ll make you cum faster if you can just be a little patient.” Her voice as started to get a bit jagged against your ear, she bites your lobe after her sentence sends shockwaves down your spine. You, somehow, manage to still your hips and – as some kind of present for obeying – she adds a third finger; you grab her back roughly and she arches into you. She moves her fingers slightly faster and curls her fingers at the end of each thrust and, fuck, any feeling of anger dissipates with every thrust. The heat begins to coils even tighter at the bottom of your stomach, her thumb finds your clit and you bury your face into her shoulder, pulling her even closer._

_And she moves even quicker and your getting closer and closer and-_

_You fall over the edge as she coaxes every single part of the orgasm that you can give until she slowly withdraws her fingers and puts them in her mouth, bringing another noise out of you. You’d think that you’d be used to the sight or the feeling of Veronica Sawyer fucking you, but you’re not sure you ever will. You turn on your side and she cuddles you, you love and hate how right she was about needing a big spoon. She whispers praise after praise, making you blush as she kisses softly up and down your shoulder. She stops and you lie in silence, again, not really minding._

_“So what would you rather?” You sigh._

_“Seriously?”_

_“Please?”_

_“Fine, I would rather fuck Kurt in front of the entire school than sleep with Ms Flemming.”_

_She laughs and you have to elbow her, softly, in the ribs to remind her that other people do live in this house. She leaves a light kiss on your neck as an apology and snuggles into you. Does she think you’re done? It’s only 3am and you’re on holiday next week, you need your fill._

_“What do you think you’re doing?”_

_“Uh, sleeping?”_

_You grind your ass into her and she makes a small choking noise, her hand finding your hip and grabbing it._

_“We’re not done yet, Ronnie, it’s your turn.”_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okaaaay, not too sure about this chapter, but I hope it's alright :)

It continues with Heather Duke, of all people.

You’re bunking P.E with her, because Mac has to keep fit and show up to class as the cheer captain, you roll your eyes at the thought. At least the yearbook committee is kinda cool, and Duke manages to find gossip out about everyone under the guise of asking people for the yearbook.

You’re smoking behind the teachers longue with her, you’re leaning against the wall while she’s sitting on a bench a few feet away. Veronica used to bunk with you, she make eye contact with you while you sit in silence, occasionally bitching about whoever pissed you off that week. Then she’s say something that wasn’t even that funny, but the way she would say it would you laugh. Now she’s either playing volleyball with Mac or joking around with the loser squad. You hate that jealousy starts to build in you at the thought of her with them, making her laugh, being around her instead of you.

“What’s going on with you and Sawyer?” Duke says, exhaling a plume of smoke. Rage bubble up in your stomach. How dare she bring up Veronica with you, if she knows what’s good for her she’ll pipe down effective immediately.

“Excuse me?” You seethe, trying to convey as much anger as possible through your tone, she shrinks slightly but holds your gaze.

“I’m not stupid, you guys were _really_ close and then _she’s_ ignoring us? Her? The one that puked on your shoes and then was magically welcomed back into the most important group in the school? And now she’s ignoring _us_? What did you do?”

“Maybe she did something.” You lie, she looks right through it.

“Bullshit.”

“Shut up Heather!” This only seems to spur her on.

“I actually like Veronica, she puts you in your place, and it’s nice for people to smile at us rather than cower.”

“What gives you the fucking right to talk to me like that?”

“Oh quit it Heather, I’ve seen you cry at Disney movies.”

“I’ll tell the whole school how you were bunk-buddies with Dunnstock.”

“You don’t even call her Dumptruck anymore Heather, don’t give me that.”

“Since when did you grow a backbone?”

“Look, Mac’s not gonna say it so I will. Talk to her, you dumbass. You live so far up your own ass half the time, you never notice when things have consequences. You never get detentions, you can say whatever you want in school, but as soon as we get outside of this prison? You fall apart. Actions have consequences Heather, even you should know that.”

“You dead Heather, you’ll be sitting with the losers for the rest of the year you’ll-“

“Jesus Christ Heather! When will you learn? We were really good friends once, but you’ve hurt me consistently for _years,_ and I don’t know why and I don’t understand how your personality is slowly turning back to how it used to be, but I _know_ that she has something to do with it. So talk to her.”

That effectively shuts you up because she’s right, God, you always forget how perceptive Duke actually is, that’s why you trust her analysing people and getting gossip and verifying how true it is. You can fool Veronica to an extent because she’s only known you – even if she knows you better than most people – for a short time, but Duke can smell a bad lie from twenty miles away. She looks at you while you struggle to come up with something to say, you hate to say how you can tell that she’s enjoying watching you squirm. She gives up on staring after a while, instead looking down the small alley to the dumpsters. You’ve had a lot of regrets in your life, mainly ones that you can ignore, you’re good at that. One of the biggest is Heather Duke, but it’s gone on for too long and hurt too much to just apologise. That’s a cowards way of thinking, you chastise yourself, but it’s the only way you can do it without _completely_ hating yourself.

“Let’s go, I wanna get to the cafeteria before everyone else gets there.” She says, tapping her cigarette against the bench and throwing it somewhere, you crunch yours under your foot. If you died, you think that Duke would replace you, Mac could never, she’s too soft and likes people too much. But Duke, she could crush people under her shoes and smile about it, she wouldn’t overtly say things to people’s faces, you reckon that she would find another way to torment them. Although, she did say that she liked it more when people didn’t cower, maybe, if you died, your legacy would crumble and the two remaining Heathers would just exist in the school, at a slightly better place on the food chain, but they would just exist and continue on their lives. You suppose you could do that, but life isn’t some kumbaya shit-show, and people don’t forgive easy, people aren’t Martha Dunnstock or Veronica Sawyer, most people are Betty Finn – the kind who remember and resent as opposed to forgive and forget and you can’t blame her, you’re a bitch, a stone cold snake. God, since when did your lament about Veronica turn into a high school equivalent of an existential crisis.

You’re becoming pathetic, gross.

You stop walking before the doors to the cafeteria.

“I’m sorry Heather.”

She stops, looking at you with an unreadable expression on her face. You stare at your hands.

“For the way I’ve treated you these last couple of years and for everything else and-“

“Heather.”

You make eye contact.

“One fucked up friendship at a time, we’re not doing this now. We’ll do it when I’m ready to forgive you. At least you know how you’ve fucked up now.”

You nod and walk through the doors, Duke falling behind you, just like the school expects.

\--

_You get woken up by the sun._

_You obviously forgot to shut the blinds after Veronica stumbled in with a smile and a kiss. It was one of those times where she came in, threw her jumper somewhere in your room and pulled you against her. Then she gives you a breathless ‘hi’ in between hard kisses, your hands played with her hair in the way that made her groan against you._

_The sun hits you and you shove your face into your pillow and will the blinds to shut by themselves. You hear her make a sleepy noise and you turn, slowly, to avoid waking her, to find her eyes opening slightly._

_“Mornin’ Heather.” Her voice is deep and gravely from the night before and it does things to you that shouldn’t be done to you at whatever the time is._

_“Hm.” You rub your eyes, yawning a bit. She looks over your shoulder to the window and, although she’s tired, you can see her mind racing and thinking._

_“Want me to close the blinds?”_

_“Would you?” You ask, there’s that pull in your gut that makes you want to wake up like this every day, the one that makes you want to stop hurting others, maybe let yourself be alright. You’re getting soft in your ripe old age of seventeen._

_“Only if I get a kiss when I get back.” She replies, a smile on her face, she’s already halfway out of your bed. “God Heather, your room is freezing.” You look at her hop to the window, staring at the marks across her shoulders and back – maybe you should stop getting acrylics. No, her response to them is always so lovely._

_“Crap, I left the window open.” Her nose crinkles as she shuts the window, her hair is a mess, with parts of it sticking out everywhere and some very obvious knots. She looks beautiful with the light streaming across her._

_“I’m cold.” She says on the way back, cutely jogging back to your bed._

_“Put some clothes on then.”_

_“I’d rather do this.”_

_She ducks under the covers and pulls you toward her, you find yourself smiling easily, shivering slightly as her cold skin presses against yours._

_“I need that kiss for closing the blinds.”_

_You thought she was beautiful in the winter sun, but the muted colour of your blind makes your room slightly red and she’s so close and looking so free, she’s got nothing holding her feelings back. She looks like a goddamn vision sent from God or something just as gross and cliché. She kisses you, and you can’t believe you’re admitting this, but you giggle against her. Heather Chandler does not giggle, and yet here is Veronica with a smile and acting like a dork and kisses that make you melt and you’re suddenly letting her stay over and let her talk to you like an actual friend (or lover) and giggling._

_What is she doing to you?_

_Something you don’t want to think about right now._

_Especially when she’s kissing you soundly and it feels like you could stay like this forever. Under your covers, lying facing each other and kissing with your legs intertwined. It doesn’t feel like you need to speed up, need to fuck, you could just stay. You’re warm, contented and happy – you know she’ll have to leave soon if the sun is up. Maybe your lips could keep her here for a bit longer. You don’t know how long you stay there, exploring each other. Her hand lightly tugs at the hairs at the base of your neck, not in the knife-edge pain/pleasure way, but in a comforting way that pulls you impossibly closer. Your arms wrap around her waist, feeling her soft,_ soft, _skin. God, everything feels so good. This doesn’t happen often, it only happens when you let her see you properly instead of kicking her out as soon as the sun comes up or her almost running out of your window because she needs to study or complete homework or something nerdy, so you savour every second of it. She pulls away slightly, resting her forehead on yours, then looks at the clock next to your bed. She groans and rests her head on the juncture between your neck and shoulders. You’ve avoided looking over there because you know that she’ll have to go._

_“I have to go.”_

_No, please don’t, stay._

_“Be my guest.”_

_For fucks sake Heather, this is why you can’t have nice things._

_She scoffs, slightly bitterly, at that. And starts to remove herself. You’re cold. You sit up, letting the sheets fall to your waist, showing off the marks she left down your body last night. She stares at them for a second, her mouth quirking up slightly, before trying to find her underwear._

_“Veronica.”_

_She looks at you, raising an eyebrow as if to say ‘yeah? What do you want?’ You don’t even know what you want to say, you know you should apologise, but the idea of that leaves you uncomfortable._

_“Close the window on the way out.” Is all you say, for all your talk for wanting her to stay earlier, you’re doing a damn good job at_ not _doing that. To be fair you can’t get complacent, if she were to find out how you feel, you’re not sure how you would handle it. She rolls her eyes and tries to find her clothes quicker. You want to say more but the words don’t work, so you just stare at her as she gets dressed._

_“Do we have English homework?” You finally ask as she’s pulling on her jumper._

_“I don’t know Heather.”_

_“Yes you do, you always know.” You’d rather have her talking about random shit like homework and being annoyed at you than getting dressed in silence and being annoyed at you._

_“Fine. We do, Flemming want us to make a summary of Twelfth Night.”_

_She looks done with you._

_“Thanks.” You say, slightly weaker than you thought you would._

_“No problem Heather.” She says over her shoulder before climbing out of your window, she makes a point to almost slam it, before scurrying down your roof._

_God, why do you have mess things up all the time?_


	3. Chapter 3

It ends at a party, because of course it fucking does.

You don’t even expect her to show up, but she does, you’re half a vodka cran deep and the house is heating up because people are dancing but you’re pretty sure it’s she’s here. You look around the house, it’s Kurt’s and he’s crazy rich because his Dad is some CEO at some insurance firm. You don’t know, he rambled about it when he was drunk once. He’s got barely any lights on and far too many teens to see anyone properly. You can just make people out, you notice Jeremy from his dorky jumper and Country Club Keith from his popped collar.

You see a blur of blue, there she is.

You make eye contact and you down the rest of your drink, your throat burns slightly then the sweetness of the juice hits you; it swirls in your stomach and you feel the drink churn, making you feel slightly sick. She’s stopped looking so angry, there’s still betrayal and hurt, but she seems to be waiting for something from you. Whatever she wants, you won’t give. You’re goddamn Heather Chandler, you don’t need some lowlife who piggy backed off your popularity.

But you do, dear God you do.

You need her so badly.

You’ve done a good job in ignoring her and the feelings she causes, but one bit of eye contact brings it all back, brings everything back. It brings back the pain, the hurt, the love, the desire. Fuck, you haven’t eaten in hours and your drink hits you harder than you expected. She finally looks away when Mac almost ran up to her and gave her a hug, she’s wine drunk and you can tell by Veronica’s sway from the intensity of Mac’s hug. You move to where everyone’s dancing to avoid her, you close your eyes and start moving. You can feel bodies bumping into you and smell a mix of alcohol, sweat and cigarettes from outside. You can hear the music and Veronica’s laugh floats over the top of all the noise.

Fuck, you thought, maybe, you were free from her.

You turn your back and move to the kitchen, finding something, anything to dull your feelings. But there’s nothing that you want, it’s all too bitter, too sparkly, would make you too drunk. Maybe you deserve something bitter and slightly painful when you swallow it. You grab some lemon vodka, you imagine that Mac drinking it daintily without even flinching, she’s one of those people who can drink and drink and drink without feeling anything. You kinda wish that you could be like that except it’s so fucking expensive and the feeling of alcohols mixing in your stomach isn’t even pleasant. You take a swig and it’s just what you expected, the sour flavour of the lemon then the harsh feeling of it falling down your throat. You look through the serving hatch that Kurt has, because Kurt’s Mom is _that_ kind of Mom, the one who needs everything to be perfect. You can see Veronica dancing, a smile on her face, she’s moving her hips in that adorkable way that she does, her arms in the sky. It pulls you back to the time at Ram’s where you were dancing on a boy while looking directly at her. You remember her eyes glaze with desire and jealousy and you loved being able to bring up those feelings in her.

Now that’s all gone, it’s all _gone._

That drink didn’t do what you wanted.

Maybe it’s for the best, you’d probably cause a scene if you got too wasted, you’re in that kinda mood.

You don’t think the party could get any wilder but someone from the football team shouts for a game of Never Have I Ever and half the party crowds into his living room. You don’t plan to go until you remember that Heather Chandler is meant to adore these kind of games. You normally don’t mind them, you normally enjoy watching people squirm or make slightly dirty ones that would make Veronica blush and put a finger down. So you take another drink of the disgusting lemon vodka and make your way toward the game.

“Awesome, we got all three Heathers!”

“Any girl on girl action?” Kurt saying moving his eyebrows in a way you’re sure he thinks is sexy, but it does the complete opposite, you grimace and look at Mac and Duke, who have the same expression.

“Gross!” A random girl shouts.

“Yeah you shoulda asked for spin the bottle if you wanted that.” Someone else cuts in.

“Let’s just start easily, never have I ever kissed someone.” Almost everyone in the room takes a drink from their respective drinks and you realise that you have nothing in your hand. Mac says your name and rolls a can of Red Stripe towards you, not your personal choice, but it’ll do for the game.

“Boo, that’s boring!” Ram says, pouting like a petulant child.

“That’s the point, dumbass.” Duke reprimands, rolling her eyes.

“Ooh, I got one! Never have I ever done something while your parents were home!” That makes a shiver of excitement throughout the room, it not only shows that you’ve done stuff, but also makes you ballsy enough to do it while most likely having an open door policy. You take a pretty hefty gulp at that, if your parents knew some of the things Veronica has done to you then you’re pretty sure that they’d burst into flames on the spot.

“Never have I ever kissed someone of the same sex!” Someone shouts from the back. While the previous one caused an excitement in the room, this made everyone look around to see who would do it, you roll your eyes and take a drink.

“Woah – you a lesbo Chandler?” Ram says, you try your best to hide your flinch, the hand not holding the can forming a fist. Fuck he knows, you’ll be laughing stock, you’re done, you’re, overreacting. You’ve kissed Mac in spin the bottle countless times, and a few other randos at a Remington party. You feel yourself calm slightly, but only slightly, you’re already on edge about the fact that you should probably talk to Veronica and this game just makes your nervousness spike.

“Spin the bottle Sweeney.” That makes his face fall into some dopey grin, as if kissing a girl of your own volition made you inherently evil while kissing a girl because of a dumb party game makes it hot, you don’t mean to sound like Sawyer but the hypocrisy is outstanding. You want out of the game, you’ve done enough that people know that you’re enjoying the party and your roll as popular girl is fulfilled, but leaving so soon after a question like that could lead to suspicion.

Or maybe you’re being paranoid.

Nevertheless, you wait a few more rounds, even offering some pointed ones toward the football team, who take it in their stride, drinking and laughing loudly. You get halfway through your beer before standing and making your way out of the game.

“Ah, Heather! We were just getting to the good ones.”

By the good ones, he means ones that are far too sexualized and make people know too much about your sex life.

“Exactly, there are some things that a lady never tells, Kurt.” You say, leaving the room and going to the hall. You find your way into Kurt’s lounge area, where the dancing has gotten a lot less PG and you wish you were dancing with Veronica that some kids are dancing. She would be behind you, her hands on your waist, keeping you steady against her. You would have one arm in her hair as she moves yours aside to kiss up your neck in the slow, wet, way that she does that makes you melt against her; then she would whisper something completely filthy in your ear that would make you turn around and kiss her, right there, in the middle of Kurt Kelley’s lounge, in front of the whole school. And it would be messy and sexy and hot and impossible. Because that doesn’t happen in Sherwood, Ohio, it doesn’t happen between two girls and it certainly doesn’t happen between Heather Chandler and Veronica Sawyer.

You make the bad choice of drinking some more of your beer and scan the crowd to find her, she’s across the way, with a joint in her mouth, laughing with some random stoners about something you wish you knew so you could laugh with her.

It takes almost two hours but you finally work up the courage to walk over to her. She leaning against a wall, next to some obnoxious plants that are almost as tall as her, she’s not wearing heel so you’re taller, you’re not quite sure why you noticed that but it seems important in your drunken mind. She’s by herself, nodding her head to the music with a small, dopey smile on her face, it drops as soon as she sees you. You’re pretty sure you’re obviously swaying but she seems to be moving at half speed so it seems that’s she’s not sober too.

“I need to talk to you.” You say, impressed with yourself that your voice barely shakes or slurs. Her eyebrow raises, she’s undermining your power. “Veronica, let’s go.” You say through your teeth, it’s taken you all night to come up with this courage, she won’t fucking ruin it.

“Okay, Heather.” She says, blasé, she’s unfazed at you, drinking and smoking have made her brave.

You move through the crowd, hoping that she’s behind you, Kurt’s house is fucking massive and it takes forever to find a room that’s free. You finally find one that’s open, there’s a double bed and en suite, from the clean linens, empty wall space and knowing Kurt’s family you can guess that it’s a spare bedroom. You hear the door close behind you and turn to see Veronica leaning against it, god she looks great, she always does, but she looks especially great tonight.

“What do you want to talk about?” her eyes are hard as they bore into yours. You don’t actually know what to say, you’ve been thinking about this all night and you don’t know what to say. You just move closer to her and place your hands either side of her face. You hope your eyes are telling her everything you don’t know how to say. You move in and kiss her, softly, so she knows what you’re trying to say. She kisses back, for a bit, she’s hesitant, her lips moving slowly across yours, her hands moving to your hips, god, you’ve missed this. Your hand travels to her hair and then she pushes you back.

“What the fuck Heather? Is that all I am to you? You brought me up here for a quick fuck?”

“No Ronnie, I want to-“

“You don’t get to call me that anymore.”

“Veronica I-“

“No, this is my time to speak. I like you Heather, I actually, genuinely like you. People don’t have to know, no one has to know, it could’ve been just us, but you’ve made it _very_ clear how you feel on the subject of us, you’ve made it very fucking clear. And here I thought you brought me up here to apologise or at least give this thing a formal end, but no, you came up here for a fuck. Bye Heather.”

You can’t look at her leaving, you scrunch your eyes and bite the bullet.

“Veronica, wait. I _am_ sorry.”

You hear her clunky flats halt over the sound of the music downstairs. You still don’t open your eyes, what you’ve drunk has made everything go to your head apparently because you can’t stop talking.

“You’re right,”

“I’m afraid, of people knowing, about how I feel about you. Christ Veronica, I’ve been told my whole like how handsome and amazing boys are; and how great I am with them, they just fall apart at my feet, wanting me. And that was fine, I could just do what I wanted without any regrets or feeling anything. And then you show up, you burst through all of the feelings I’ve tried to bury for _years,_ I like you Veronica, maybe even love, that’s, I don’t even know how to describe it, I don’t know how to explain it.” You’re quiet for a moment and you’re tempted to open your eyes but there’s more you need to say so you let is fly out of your mouth.

“Heather I-"

“And you know what? I don’t like boys, and that scares the living fucking daylights out of me. And you remind me, every fucking day, you remind me of that and I don’t know how to process it. I want you, but I can’t want you and it’s this mix of wanting and getting and hating and I can’t stop it.” You said the word, you finally open your eyes to see her looking at you with pity, so much pity. And a bit of a look of realisation, as if you’re some puzzle that all of a sudden became complete.

“I don’t want your pity.”

“Sorry.”

It’s silent and you’re staring at the ground and you feel her arms around you. She smells like clean clothes and cigarettes and it’s just the smell you love about her. You breathe deeply into her shoulder.

“I understand that those feelings are a lot, but you still hurt me Heather. Feeling like that isn’t an excuse to lash out.”

You nod into her shoulder, staying in an embrace for some time. You hear the party getting rowdy downstairs and normally you would wish you were down there instead of up here, but you wouldn’t change this for the world.

“So, where do we stand?” You finally say, she pulls away and you’re cold from the sudden lack of Veronica.

“I need time Heather, what you said the other week hit everything I was afraid of.”

“I’m good at hitting those points.” You try to joke, but she just looks sad.

“I can’t Heather, I just can’t.”

“What if I-“

“Heather please. I need time. I can if I get time.”

You nod and she leaves.

Time, you can give time.

**Author's Note:**

> Whew, okay, hope that's okay, and hope you enjoyed xx
> 
> My tumblr is 'its3amandiamverytired' if u wanna shout at me for how long it takes me to update lol
> 
> Comments be hitting different, but you don't have to of ya don't want to :)


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